


Epilogue

by Skarabrae_stone



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: F/M, Marriage Proposal, One Shot, Post-League of Dragons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:11:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9564461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skarabrae_stone/pseuds/Skarabrae_stone
Summary: Jane and Laurence have a conversation about Laurence's future.





	

“Have you thought of marrying, Laurence?”  


The question caught him by surprise. He felt the heat rush into his face as he answered, with what he hoped was tolerable composure, “No, Jane, I don’t suppose I have—not these seven years, at least.”  


She eyed him over the tip of her cigar, boots propped inelegantly on the table between them. “You ought to,” she informed him. “You’re too much alone—and it would be better for Temeraire. You’re not getting any younger, you know, and he’ll need someone to look after him, fifty years down the road.”  


“I should have thought it obvious,” said Laurence, affronted, “that Temeraire needs no captain to persuade him to serve England when I am gone.”  


“Don’t be an ass, Laurence,” she said amiably. “I know as well as you do where his loyalties lie—for now—but he will want companionship when you are gone, and a family would give him an assurance of—of continuity. I believe he was unusually attached to his crew.”  


“Churki’s doing,” muttered Laurence, but he felt the force of her argument. Temeraire had mentioned, only yesterday, that Hammond had a very large family, with such obvious longing that Laurence had felt obliged to change the subject. “He would probably not object,” he admitted. “But there are… complications.” He caught her gaze, felt himself reddening again, and said quickly, “I am not precisely sought-after.”  


“You mean that half the Aerial Corp still thinks you a traitor, and most ordinary women would as lief hang as marry an Aviator,” she said bluntly.  


“I—yes.”  


There was a pause; the ticking of Jane’s pocket-watch seemed to echo, and Laurence thought of how quickly time passed… how quickly it ran out. “Perhaps I could take on a boy,” he said slowly, thinking it out. “He was very sorry indeed to see Emily go.”  


“Hmm,” was her only response. She leaned back in her chair, still watching him. “And you’re sure there’s no one in the Corp…?”  


“Jane, you know that you’re the only—that I haven’t—“ Laurence stopped, confused. He felt that she might think him presumptuous.  


“Yes, I am, a’n’t I?” She suddenly swung her feet to the floor with a thump and sat upright, “Damn it, Laurence, I suppose there’s nothing else for it.”  


“What?”  


“I can’t stand you moping about looking so damned tragic—and Temeraire needs a proper family, not just you and Tharkay.”  


“I… I have not the pleasure of understanding you,” said Laurence, alarmed.  


“How would you like to marry me?”  


He was so startled that at first he merely gaped at her. Then he said, feebly, “Jane—Jane, you can’t be serious?”  


“Of course I’m serious.” She leaned forward, intent. “You’re not a Corpsman anymore, so it don’t matter on that score. No one’s going to make a fuss now. And Emily likes you—and Temeraire. But I won’t have you trying to be master of the house or any of that rot. We’d go on as before, only less—secretly.”  


Laurence opened his mouth, then shut it without saying anything. He could scarcely credit what he was hearing. He had long since given up any expectation of a serious relationship with Jane, content to take whatever it pleased her to give. She had refused him once, and he had known better than to try again.  


She suddenly looked uncharacteristically anxious. “You—you do not have any dislike to the idea, do you?”  


He shook his head, and finally allowed the beginnings of delight to show on his face. “Jane—Jane, I should—it is what I should like of all things.”  


“That’s settled, then,” she said placidly, but there was a broad grin on her face as she rang for the maid to bring them champagne.  


Laurence, still bewildered, took the glass in a daze, touched it to hers, and echoed her toast without really hearing it. The first taste of the fizzing alcohol brought him to his senses again, and he set his glass down decisively. “Jane,” he said, “tell me again that you’re marrying me.”  


“I’m marrying you, William Laurence,” she said with a laugh. “And damned if I know what I’m getting myself into.”  


“Jane,” he said again, and then he found that he couldn’t speak anymore, and kissed her instead.


End file.
